


there are no strings on me

by daisy_chains



Series: no strings [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Episode: s04e09 Lancelot du Lac, Gen, Lancelot (Merlin) Lives, or rather he comes back to life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 21:19:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16312865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisy_chains/pseuds/daisy_chains
Summary: “You’re not him,” he growls. A flash of worry appears in not-Lancelot’s eyes, but disappears as soon as it comes. Maybe in another situation, Merlin would grin victoriously at this point, but not today. Not with this. “You’re Morgana’s puppet."





	there are no strings on me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from I've Got No Strings by Dickie Jones.

Merlin slips away to the dungeons before the traitor arrives to deliver not-Lancelot his orders. He’s a mess of emotions, so caught up in his internal conflict the warlock doesn’t notice he’s arrived at the shade’s cell until said shade speaks up.

“Merlin?” The young man flinches at the voice before whirling around to glare at the _thing_.

“You’re not him,” he growls. A flash of worry appears in not-Lancelot’s eyes, but disappears as soon as it comes. Maybe in another situation, Merlin would grin victoriously at this point, but not today. Not with this. “You’re Morgana’s puppet and you’ve ruined the relationship between two of my closest friends.”

The shade doesn’t respond, not that Merlin expects him - _it_ \- to. Merlin can’t decide if he’s relieved or annoyed about it. Pushing the thought aside, the warlock forces himself to continue.

“But at the same time, you’re still him. Somewhere deep inside, at least.” Everything he’s been feeling shoves itself to the forefront of his mind, threatening to drown the young man alive. “And I don’t know what to do.”

Lancelot’s shade watches Merlin’s struggle indifferently. The young man glares half-heartedly at the current source of his pain, though the way his eyes shine with tears makes his stormy gaze seem far more deadly.

Slowly, Merlin steps back and raises a hand to the cell’s lock. “ _Tospringe_.”

The shade takes a wary step back, eyes darting to the now open door then back to the warlock’s unforgiving stare.

“I don’t know if this will work,” he mutters, a desperate determination causing his voice to waver, “but I have to try.”

Before not-Lancelot can stop him, Merlin grabs its - his? Merlin doesn’t know anymore - shoulder in a vice-like grip and summons his magic for another spell.

“ _Grið fæstne mid þisse tintregian sawle_!” The spell has barely left the young man’s lips when the shade collapses, leaving Merlin to catch him and gently lower him to the floor. “Gods, let that have worked.”

The warlock sits on the floor with what he hopes is now Lancelot’s head on his lap - Lancelot’s, not a puppet’s - until the unfortunately familiar pattern of Lord Agravaine’s footsteps thud down the dungeon halls. Reluctantly but swiftly, Merlin shifts the knight onto the floor and exits the cell, locking it behind him with a silent incantation before dashing down the hall, ducking into a hiding spot as the traitor comes around the corner.

He waits until Agravaine has passed, then he runs after him, playing up his just-ran-can’t-catch-my-breath look as he does so, calling out for the man.

“What is it?” The slimy sneak demands, impatience painted across his face in a painfully obvious manner.

“Sir Leon wishes to speak with you about some urgent business, my lord. He said he’d rather not disturb the king with such matters at this time.”

“Tell Sir Leon I’ll be there in just a moment,” Agravaine responds, preparing to turn and continue on his way.

“He wishes to speak with you immediately.” Merlin hopes he hides his need to keep the traitor away from Lancelot, and judging by said traitor’s annoyed but resigned expression, he did. As the man stalks towards the stairs leading out of the dungeons, the warlock follows, silently praying that Leon will go along with Merlin’s claim.

⁋  


Sir Leon is no fool. He knows bandits don’t drop their weapons randomly during a fight, especially not as often as they do now since Merlin’s arrival at Camelot. He knows creatures of magic can only be slain with magic.

So whenever Merlin disappears and a new, previously unknown threat is - dare he say - _magically_ defeated, the knight helps where he can. Whether that be covering for him with Arthur or sending another servant to help with the many chores the king piles onto the younger man as punishment, Leon does what he can.

Merlin sending Lord Agravaine his way with supposed “urgent business” needing to be discussed is a bit much, but he sees the silent plea in Merlin’s eyes. So Sir Leon, knowing better than to doubt the servant, nods. At least he’s good at improvising.

⁋  


It’s all the warlock can do to not bolt from the room as soon as Leon nods. Fortunately, he makes it out the door before his pace picks up and he runs back to the dungeons. The guards don’t even need to be distracted, they’re both gossiping like there’s no tomorrow, so Merlin merely slinks past unnoticed.

Despite wanting to check on Gwen and see how she’s holding up, the servant wanders down the hall to Lancelot’s cell once again. 

“Merlin.” The young man freezes, staring at the knight sitting on the ground, staring right back at him. However, where before his eyes lacked true recognition or friendship, they are there now, mixed with confusion, exhaustion, and fear. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember.” It isn’t a question. Merlin doesn’t even try to turn it into one. Lance shakes his head, brows furrowed and a small frown still on his face as he speaks.

“I - what should I be remembering?” It’s the warlock’s turn to shake his head as he turns away and starts to pace in front of the cell. No matter how much the knight pesters his friend, the younger man will not answer. Or, at least, not until Sir Leon appears in a whirlwind of red cape and ginger curls.

“Merlin, what’s happened?” Leon glances at Lancelot for a split second, but the servant’s half-sob, half-laugh demands more attention. 

“‘What is it?’” Merlin stops his pacing, instead turning to the still-sitting knight and gesturing wildly. “‘ _What is it_?’ Oh, absolutely _nothing_. Lancelot was brought back to life by Morgana as a shade, which means he had no memories of who he is or who anyone else is and a perfect spy for Morgana to place in Camelot. And you know what else? Perfect chance for her to enchant Gwen and, oh, I don’t know, _ruin the wedding_!”

“Lancelot is -” Leon cuts himself off, head whipping back in Lance’s direction. However, the other knight doesn’t notice. Instead, he watches the warlock with horror slowly creeping into his wide eyes. 

“No,” Merlin says, shaking his head. “No, he _was_ a shade. He isn’t anymore.”

“How?” Leon, who had turned to Merlin, once again turns to not-shade Lance. The dark-haired knight meets the younger man’s reluctant gaze with his own steadfastly determined one as he repeats his question. “ _How_ , Merlin?”

“I…” The servant glances between the two knights, hesitating. “I freed you from Morgana’s control. With… y’know… magic.”

Lancelot immediately looks to Leon to see his reaction and finds the man completely unsurprised.

“You know?” The knight nods, sending the warlock a small, vaguely embarrassed grin. It fades as quick as it comes, replaced with a grim expression reminding them of the matter at hand.

“So what do we do now?” Leon asks. Merlin shakes his head and slides down the wall to the floor. At seeing both his friends sitting on the ground, Leon sighs and joins them, leaning against the bars of Lancelot’s cell so he can see both men. “I’ve made sure Agravaine will be preoccupied for quite some time. It will be safe to discuss our options here for now.”

“I should probably explain why I needed him away, shouldn’t I?” The servant says more than asks, glaring wearily at the ceiling. Lance glances between the Merlin and Leon confusedly, still unsure of who Agravaine is, exactly. Leon nods again, glaring half-heartedly at the warlock.

“That would be appreciated.”

⁋  


“We need to tell Arthur,” Leon says, already rising to his feet, looking ready to run Agravaine through after hearing of the man’s betrayal. Lancelot looks ready to agree with him if not for the fact that he knows and understands Merlin’s reasoning behind not doing so. Said warlock groans miserably, glaring at the ceiling again.

“But we don’t have _proof_ ,” Merlin argues. The knight hesitates, reluctant to keep such a secret from his king but unfortunately knowing, like Lance, where he’s coming from. “Agravaine’s his uncle. He won’t hear a word against him and we can’t afford for him to lose his trust in us, people who actually care about his and the kingdom’s wellbeing.”

For a moment, Leon hesitates, sense of duty warring with logic. Then, “so what do we do?”

⁋  


“So you’re saying Morgana resurrected Lancelot and enchanted Guinevere for the sole purpose of ruining our wedding?” There are two nods. “Why? What reason does she have to do such a thing?”

“Sire,” Merlin says, stepping forward, “Gwen was her servant. She takes Gwen’s rise to Queen as a personal offense, that her servant should sit upon the throne that is rightfully hers.”

Arthur sighs, glancing between the knight and servant wearily. “Do you have proof?”

“We spoke with Gwen earlier,” Leon responds, drawing out a bracelet. “Lancelot, or rather, Lancelot’s shade gave it to her shortly before the incident in the throne room. We confirmed with Gaius that it is, in fact, enchanted.”

“Gwen didn’t betray you, Arthur,” Merlin says, easily seeing through Arthur’s crumbling mask and getting at the root of the problem. The king reluctantly meets the servant’s insistent gaze and nods, shoulders sagging in the company of his two friends.

“Thank you,” he says, “both of you. Leon, could you bring Guinevere here?”

“Of course, Sire,” the knight responds, patting Merlin on the back as he takes his leave. 

“And Merlin, you said Lancelot is no longer a… a shade?” The warlock nods, subconsciously reaching out with his magic to check that his friend is still in his cell, still safe from the likes of Agravaine. Once he feels Lance’s presence - pure, clean, wholly _Lance_ \- he begins the explanation the three of them had decided upon in the dungeons.

“He was brought back as a shade, which means he had no memories of his life before being brought back. We - Gaius and I - managed to break Morgana’s hold over him, restoring his memories and his control. The Lancelot currently in the dungeons is _our_ Lancelot, no different from when he walked into the veil.”

“And there are no… ill effects from him being a shade?”

“He may be more resistant to magical attacks, but otherwise, no.” 

“Then I suppose we should speak with him as well?”

“That would probably be for the best. But, Arthur, he has no memories of his time as a shade.”

“Probably for the best,” the king echoes.

⁋  


Merlin takes his leave when Gwen arrives, but not before shooting her a small smile, which she hesitantly returns.

“Guinevere…” The door shuts, leaving the warlock and Sir Leon to stand together, sharing unsure glances.

“Where’s Agravaine?” Merlin asks, finally unable to stand the silence. The knight shifts, a sigh of what may be relief escaping before he answers.

“With any luck, still sorting out a feud between the Steward and Cook.” 

“Oh.” Merlin shudders, a look of horror on his face. “I almost feel bad for him.”

With a laugh, Leon responds, “truly?”

“ _Almost_.”

⁋  


“Sir Lancelot.” The king stands several paces ahead of the knight, face carefully revealing nothing as he nods in dismissal at Leon and Merlin. He waits until the door slams shut behind them before addressing Lancelot again, mask dropping as he does so. “Lancelot.”

“Sire.” 

“I…” Arthur trails off, turning his grief-stricken stare to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Sire, there is no need -” At the wave of a hand, Lancelot falls silent, waiting for the king to continue.

“There is every need,” he whispers with a shake of his head. “I was wrong. I took everything that happened these past few days at face value and I failed to question where I should have. My failures allowed Morgana to use you - the noblest man I know - for her own twisted reasons and harm Guinevere.”

“Sire -”

“I should have known better than to think you would do such a thing, you would never -”

“Arthur.” The king glances up, meeting the knight’s eyes. “Morgana used me to harm both you and Guinevere. You cannot be faulted for acting in response to the blow she dealt. I am sorry she used me to accomplish this and that there was no way for me to prevent it, but the blame is not yours to carry.”

A few moments pass, the two men watching each other wearily, before Arthur speaks again with a huff of self-deprecating laughter. 

“We are a mess, aren’t we?” 

“I suppose so,” Lancelot responds with a grin of bitter amusement to match the king’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate titles: "shade is thrown/Morgana throws shade" (thank you beta reader for those amazing titles)
> 
> The spell Merlin uses on Lancelot is taken directly from the episode.
> 
> If you're wondering how Leon found out about Merlin's magic, I wrote [trusting a friend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16117265) in the same au. I'm working on a sequel that is currently titled "Agravaine's a scoundrel, Morgana's thrown a fit, and oh look a wedding" (not sure if I'll be changing it or not). Not sure when I'll get around to finishing it, but it'll get done eventually. 
> 
> In other news, this is the first fic that's longer than a thousand words that I actually completed and I'm just really excited right now.


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